


Domestic Magic

by MaeDay (Wolf_Shadow)



Category: Bayonetta (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Romance, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_Shadow/pseuds/MaeDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small song-fic about Bayonetta and Jeanne quietly painting their new home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Magic

Just something I thought up last night while listening to an Undertale GMV, I hope you enjoy. :)

\----

 _‘My universe will never be the same….’_.

A fresh spring breeze slipped through the open bay windows, rustling the taped layers of paper across the floor and carrying with it the scent of a warm spring day. This fair smell mixed oddly with that of the thick odor of the wet paint, but somehow, Cereza enjoyed it.

Beside her, Jeanne huffed and mumbled something under her breath. Cereza glanced over and watched as the other witch dipped her brush into the bucket of ivory white paint, studiously wiping the excess off from both sides before turning back to the wall and resuming her meticulous strokes.

 _‘I’m glad you came…’_.

Cereza grinned at the smear of paint across her cheek (a shade or two warmer than Jeanne’s platinum colored hair), at the concentrated frown that creased her face as she painted.  
She nudged Jeanne lightly, and when the other woman looked over with an expression that was half exasperation and half caution, Cereza tipped her head at the wall in front of them, flicking her eyes pointedly between Jeanne’s brush and her own paint roller.

Jeanne just huffed again, the conversation wordlessly repeating itself for the umteenth time that day, each incarnation losing more words than the one before it.

 _‘you cast a spell on me…’_.

It wasn’t like Cereza could inspire Jeanne to be any less precise. The women, she had remembered (and begun to relearn all over again), was as proper and pristine with any project as any perfect princess ever should be (save for the piles of dirty clothes that would decorate the floor, or the unwashed dishes in the sink, housekeeping apparently hadn’t been in her lessons). They had started with the opposite tools in hand, Jeanne taking charge and smoothly rolling out the paint after Cereza had applied the first thick coat.

 _‘you hit me like the sky fell on me’_.

Of course, Cereza had been repeatedly informed that she was layering it on too thick. In turn, Jeanne was informed that she was moving far too slow for the process. After a final annoyed barb about the excess paint gumming up her roller, Jeanne’s tool was snatched away and the laden brush was awkwardly thrust into her palm, paint slopping over her fingers and sending spatters along her wrist and tattered t-shirt.

 _‘and i decided you look well on me’_.

They moved much faster after that, despite Jeanne still painting with unnecessary precision, and now the open living room glowed in the dawning twilight, the paler hue of this coat drowning out the placid blue that the previous homeowners had left it.

 _‘so let’s go somewhere no one else can see, you and me’_.

It was a wonderful place really, quiet countryside and peaceful woods all around. Cereza had to admit that it reminded her of Crescent valley, and it was no wonder that Jeanne had so firmly settled on this place after looking at dozens of houses.

Cereza herself would miss the city, the nosy apartment building she’d occupied these last twenty years, yet…. She glanced over and Jeanne again, and despite the concentration, despite the obvious tiredness from working all day, Cereza could see contentment in her silver eyes. An expression so pure that it made her heart do funny things in her chest. She’d miss the inner city life, for sure, but she found the current trade-off more than worth it.

Jeanne had reached the end of the wall, and stood up on a footstool to reach the topmost corner, leaning her weight on the perpendicular wall, the section they had started on that morning. Cereza kept her rhythm with the roller even, finding simple enjoyment in the buzz of the roller, the ‘squish’ of the paint beneath it.

 _‘turn the lights out now’_.

Jeanne finished her last inch, then dismounted the latter and drew it away to allow Cereza access. She walked out of Cereza’s vision, and the tapping sounds that followed told her that Jeanne was closing the paint lid. Ever the roller moved on, finishing the final touches of their long day and hard work.

 _‘Now I’ll take you by the hand’_.

She lowered the long stick and admired her work, the wall a single, clean shade of white, through it was stained dusky pink by the setting rays of the sun. She turned and helped Jeanne clean the painting supplies from the floor, the two of them hauling their load out the open sliding glass door and into their back yard. A newly purchased garden hose letting them clean the paint from the brush and roller, from the paint pan, though their work was interrupted with with a few cheeky flicks of milky water and indignant squeals.

 _‘time is slipping away’_.

They cleaned each others skin of paint next, Cereza with a teasing smirk as she scrubbed Jeanne’s pinched face with the pad of her thumb, and once that was done, they slipped free of their paint stained clothes (Cereza catching Jeanne’s shirt and shorts before she could simply toss them on the ground) and walked back into the house, Jeanne shutting the screen door behind them.

 _‘stay with me, i can make make,’_.

They ventured to their new bedroom, a haphazard pile of suitcases and a half full dresser the only furniture apart from a queen sized mattress on a metal frame, but they didn’t mind. They had time to furnish to their tastes once all the small details were finalized.

Cereza dropped the dirty clothes in an empty laundry basket as Jeanne went digging through her messy suitcase, yanking things out carelessly until she found an overly large t-shirt that fell over her body like a nightgown.  
For her part, Cereza pulled out a comfortable pair of slacks from the dresser and a loose shirt from the top of her own suitcase, loosening and tossing her bra in the laundry basket before donning the latter (Jeanne had done the same, only her bra lay another half a foot away from the basket).

Cereza ignored that for now, the bed looked far too inviting, and she collapsed into it with a satisfied sigh.

 _‘make you glad you came’_.

The bed dipped behind her, and she chucked as Jeanne leaned over and pressed soft kisses on the exposed portion of her neck and shoulder, before she wrapped one arm securely over Cereza’s waist. Tucking her back into the warmth of Jeanne’s body, Cereza twined her arm over Jeanne’s and laced their fingers together, smiling contently at the window just across from her, at the final fading rays of the sunset that cast into their room.

 _‘I’m glad you came’_.

Propped up on her elbow and watching the same scene, Jeanne leaned over and placed a kiss to the top of Cereza’s head.

“Welcome home.” She murmured.

 _‘I’m glad you came.’_.


End file.
